


To Love the Broken | Harvey Kinkle

by Xoxo_Sadie21



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, One Shot, Reader inserts, caos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xoxo_Sadie21/pseuds/Xoxo_Sadie21





	To Love the Broken | Harvey Kinkle

_Nightmare_

_night·mare/ˈnītˌmer/_

_noun_

  1. _a frightening or unpleasant dream_.



There was something about a terrifying moment one experiences, whether it is in reality or through dreams, that forces a numbing panic to settle over your chest. A fleeting sensation, so subtle yet so incredibly distinct that churns inside your gut, and it feels as if someone has plunged their hand through your abdomen only for their fingers to pulls on your intestines. It makes you sick. 

When the nightmare has become too much, you find yourself gasping, needing air in your lungs while you scratch at your neck as if prying imaginary fingers from your flesh. Sweat trickles down your temples, tears mixing in with the moisture as you try to calm down your fretful heart. It’s beating about a million miles per second, it feels like. 

Your room is dark.

Your senses are idle— it’s almost as if they have stopped working. You can’t hear anything, can’t smell, can’t  _think_. 

But then, in the midst of the pandemonium, your heart lurches. Your focus drifts over to the side of your bed, where in the middle of tangled sheets, you find your phone. It’s on. 

With furrowed brows, you pick it up, and suddenly, as if you are being pulled out of the barbarous waves, you can hear it; the voice on the other side of the receiver. 

Harvey.

His voice is laced with pure and utter panic, dismay, it’s like he can’t speak right because his words are jumbled and incomprehensible. 

You pick up the phone with trembling nerves, and press it to your ear. “Harv?” 

_“I’m getting in the truck, are you alright?”_

“What? Why are you getting in the truck? Did something happen?” You question, voice high pitched. 

 _“You were screaming. I heard you scream— you fell asleep on the phone with me, remember?”_  He’s breathless.  _“It must’ve been another nightmare.”_  And then he curses which emits a flinch from you. He only ever gets harsh when you’re hurt or upset, or if his over-protectiveness has just about clouded every rational thought in his mind. 

You are his ultimate weakness. 

Although, the nightmare still lingers, still fresh and all-seeing through your eyes, you do your best to force your voice to a calm, steady tone. You had to calm him down, it was  _vital_. 

“No, no, no. I’m alright, okay? Go back home.” Your mind was at war; one part of you wants to be held by him, now and forever, but the other delirious part of you is still too disturbed by the images that corrupt your thoughts. You can still feel his hands wrapping around your neck, choking and squeezing with a barren look in his beautiful eyes. Images flicker back and forth mirthlessly, and you feel his other hand force a butcher knife through your gut. 

It’s not real, [Y/N].

It’s not real. 

 _“What do you mean ‘you’re alright’? [Y/N], I just heard you scream bloody murder, and after that you’re just going to pretend like it’s not a big deal? Please, I want to come over.”_  His voice bleeds with desperation, and you can practically see the pout that curves across his lips. 

It’s too late, the nightmare has tainted your mind. You are afraid to be near him right now. 

“You don’t have to worry, I’m safe. Just—” you pause, and run your fingers through your hair, chest heavy. “I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay?” 

He’s silent.

You know with just a sleep inducement spell that you’ll be just fine for the rest of the night. You can’t say the same when morning comes and you have to talk to your boyfriend. And with ultimate worrier being in his natural, over-protective blood, you know there would be no escaping the bombarding that would ensue.

“[Y/N]… did I do something wrong?” He croaks, and you can’t tell if it’s from the sleep he was abruptly awaken from, or if he were actually trying to hold back tears. But his insecurities cut you deep, and you screw your eyes shut, wishing that the painful ripples would disappear.

“ _No_ ,” you’re quick to answer because you know that even though the nightmare was still lingering, you would rather suffer than hear the complete alienated abandonment in his voice. You dig your nails into your palm, enough to draw blood, and hesitantly speak again, “This wasn’t about you.”

Even though it’s a lie, you feel the need to shelter him from reality. Harvey is  _not_ like you, he never could be. He’s entirely made up of untarnished innocence— an innocence that needs to stay intact. You will not be the reason his youth is destroyed.

After a tender goodnight, you whisper an incantation and slip into the oblivion you knew to be sleep.

-

-

-

“Hey, are you alright?” Sabrina asks you the next day, arm brushing against the fabric of your woolen, pea coat. 

Sabrina Spellman, fellow witch and best friend, walks by your side. Her shoulder length blonde hair is tidied up and pushed back by a black thin headband, and her bright red fleece coat radiates the light you cannot bring back.

She looks at you with those doe-eyes, wanting to know why you seem isolated from the world.

 _I’m fine_ , you wanted to say, but the lingering images that flash through your head when she touches your shoulder in a sympathetic way makes you flinch. It’s just the slightest of movements, barely seen by some, but Sabrina can sense it. The obvious amount of mental pain you are currently in sinks into her chest, and she breathes out harshly while retracting her hand. 

“What happened to you?” She asks, brows twitching and lips pulling into a frown. 

“Nothing.” 

“No, no, no. Something happened— what was it?” She pesters you softly because she knows that you have a breaking point, and she knows you hate  _pity_. 

“A silly  _dream_ , ‘Brina,” you try to joke, hoping it can alleviate the concern she noticeably harbors for you. Despite the fact that she still worries, you brush it off and your playful expression drops. “I’m not a child anymore.” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she steps in front of you, blocking your view of the landscapes and arising sunshine ahead. “I’m hovering again, aren’t I?” 

“Just a tad.” You hold up your hand, using your thumb and index fingers and pinch them to express sarcastically. 

She rolls her eyes at you, but there’s a grin tugging at her lips; drawn and sincere. 

You continue to walk, and within minutes you’re nearing Baxter High’s entrance. And suddenly, the landscapes and the sun isn’t your view anymore. You stop abruptly, eyes glued to the front of the building where your eyes meet a pair of pleading brown ones. Sabrina followers your focus, and she realizes what has your attention. With a heaved sigh, she gives your arm a gentle squeeze and walks away without a single word exchanged between the two of you. 

You don’t even notice her absence until Harvey makes his way towards you, gradually and with uncertain, wobbly feet. He’s attentive when he reaches your side, that dopey grin you love so much nowhere in sight, and the fact that he isn’t smiling at you right now only makes you feel small and desolate. 

“Hi.” He whispers, hoarsely down at you, and if you stare hard enough you can see the dark bags underneath his eyes, and the barely there splotchy cheeks as if he had cried himself to sleep. 

“Have you been crying?” You blurt out, unable to prevent your worries from bleeding out. You take a step forward and touch his cheeks with both hands, tensing when you feel just how cold his skin is. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” He steps forward and brings you in to his chest, burrowing his face on top of your head, holding onto you as if you are his lifeline. And maybe you are, or maybe he is just feeding off of your emotions. Overly sensitive people tend to do that, and Harvey was a sensitive teenager in all his youthful glory. 

Resentment washes over you like tsunami waves, and you are met with the unforgiving truth that you are the reason for his melancholic induced desperation to be closer to you. 

“What happened to you last night? I was so worried.” He doesn’t pull away, he only anchors himself around you, needing to be  _closer_ — somehow more closer than he already is. 

You don’t question his neediness. In fact, you embrace it because for this short moment, you don’t see the images fluttering through your head like a camera lens, you don’t hear those odious words he spoke to you then. You are just…  _here,_ and you value every small or large indication from him. It’s always so pleasurable. And the longer you are grounded to the floor, the more you  _crave_ for his touches, his voice to whisper soothing things into your hair as he kisses your forehead. 

“It was just a nightmare,” you promise, curling into his embrace before quickly pulling away to stare at him. 

You want to tell him, but you know that if you start you won’t be able to stop, and some things just need to stay hidden. Sabrina has told you this plenty of times— it just wasn’t  _safe_  for him. 

Tears spring anew in his eyes, and you quickly reach to brush them away with your thumb. He leans into your touch only briefly before your hand is gone once more, fiddling at the sleeves of your coat.

“I can’t help but think that there’s something you’re not telling me,” he sniffles, but there are no more tears left in his eyes. “You think I don’t know you well enough, [Y/N]. You think that I don’t notice the way you flinch when I get close to you, or the way your body completely freezes.” 

You remain silent, not defiantly, but only because you know that his words are true. Somewhere along the way, you knew that getting close to Harvey, becoming a valuable being in his life, would absolutely tear you to shreds in a way no other human could. You are his weakness, and he is yours. 

Despite the way your mind is tricking you to believe that Harvey is the enemy, you know well within your soul that he is anything beyond that. He is the light at the end of the tunnel, he is the sun that eminences from behind a mountain of stormy clouds after a thunderstorm. 

Why won’t your mind  _understand_  that?

You hold your breath, watching as Harvey leans down to touch his forehead to yours. The two of you stand there, surrounded by a thick blanket of taciturnity, breaths mingling together as you try to force your heart to a steady calm. 

But it’s not enough anymore. Harvey needs to be closer, possibly with his lips on yours, or any part of your skin. He needs to feel you  _molding_  into him, so he reaches forward and just as his hands skim across your neck, your mind throws up this wall that prevents you from comprehending what happens next. 

_Please, please, please, please._

_No._

_No._

_Let go._

You pull away from him with a harsh tug, gasping, whimpering, paralyzed with revulsion. Your hands are seized at your neck; cold and desperate. 

“Who  _hurt_  you?” He seethes with a crestfallen expression and a clenched jaw. Through the tears that cloud your vision, you notice that the tears have returned, and they are now falling down his cheeks like rain on a windowpane. 

“You did.” The words tumble past your mouth in a quick, raspy breath that you managed to catch in between your inaudible sobbing. Before you can take it back, his face falls and he turns pale. “Nightmare. In the nightmare. You were there… and… and I tried to run, but you were too fast. I was trying to stop it, to keep you from hurting me. I yelled at you, begged you please, but you wouldn’t stop.” 

“I…” he deflates, “ _I_  hurt you?” 

“Only in the nightmare.” You’re quick to remind him— or maybe it’s to remind yourself. You aren’t sure. 

His bottom lip trembles as he takes it between his teeth, clenching his jaw in order to strain the colossal waves of anguish. 

When you step closer, he takes a step back, and your heart shatters. He’s afraid to be near you in fear of hurting you. You can see it in his eyes, in his tears as they cascade down his cheeks. 

Something inside of you  _snaps_. 

You lurch forward and grab both of his cheeks only to enclose the distance between you. His lips are warm and, innocently so, you are consumed with that love-drunk, sunstruck poison. The poison you will gladly devour until you are numb and can no longer move your limbs.

Closing your eyes tight, you let the magic take control and fill his head with what you deem a spell to make him forget. You aren’t physically whispering the incantation to him, and instead it’s your mind that embroils with his own. As the bond grows stronger, it prompts you to press further into him. An eager sound emits from the back of his throat, the heat of the moment causing his body to relax deeply. His thumbs dance across both of your cheeks with lazy movements, lips moving in sync with yours, but still having the sense that he is entirely at your mercy. 

You can feel the magic engaging him, washing away all of his worries. 

Then you pull back, lips brushing against his, and murmur the words that would keep him safe: “ _Qui affecto protego, mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu._ ”

Because nothing is worse than losing your innocence, and Harvey is the beacon to all light you know. 

When you pull back, he smiles down at you with half-lidded eyes. He is glowing with a slightly intoxicated expression adorning his cherubic features. 

“What just happened?” He smiles lopsidedly at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he does so. 

“We kissed.” 

And you swore right then that you would keep him safe even if it meant you would be infected with the darkness for the rest of your life. 


End file.
